These Four Walls
by Vintage Vine
Summary: Just some Katniss/Peeta fluff following the events of Mockingjay, but way before the Epilogue. One-Shot until further notice, extending this depends on possible feedback. So, read and enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

It's too hot in here, too claustrophobic for my taste. The Capitol has air conditional appliances that I'd grown too accustomed to during my brief stays there. To reduce the heat some, I shrug out of my hunting jacket, take off my boots, and rest against the wall farthest from the door. Downstairs, Peeta must be taking a break from gardening; I can hear the cabinets being shut and his prosthetic leg tromping around. A part of me wishes he'd come up here and comfort me, and then another, the very small piece, wishes he would leave immediately.

I ignore both and curl into a ball, pulling my legs to my chin and locking. This is mandatory everyday; assume the fetal position, cut off all senses, and wait for the headaches to pass. There is only one person that can relieve me of the pain, and that is Peeta.

Breaking my own code, I open my eyes to the hot, humid room. The four walls are a dull yellow, and the door is green. The king size bronze bed sits idly against the left wall, out of place. This is my room, and I hate it almost as much as my room in the Capitol. There is nothing that says 'Katniss' here, nothing that says 'Hero'. And not that I mind, I simply wish there was something holding me here, right here in Victor's Village. I guess I could think of Peeta as that anchor.

I close my eyes again, wanting nothing more than to imagine a scene with woods, grass, and dirt. Not these dingy yellow walls and the empty space.

It's sometime later when I hear the footsteps ascending the stairs. I've been sleeping, and my eyes open slightly to glance out the one window. It's dark, past sunset, and the moon is barely noticeable behind the clouds. The door creaks open slowly, hesitantly, and I sit up. Peeta looks in, finds my humble position, and comes to sit by me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tucking a fallen lock of my braid behind my ear.

I move my head sluggishly. He looks confused, and even I can't tell if I'd nodded or shaken my head. "I don't think so," I mumble, staring at the possible threat.

He nods and follows my gaze to the door. "Oh. Sorry," he murmurs, standing to shut the door; he'd forgotten to close it when he came in.

"It's alright, Peeta. Nothing came in, in the few seconds you left it ajar."

He's sits back down and folds my thin jacket, then he neatly set my boots beside it and turns back to me. "What happens if the door is left open, Katniss?" he asked softly.

I shrug, and lean my head on his shoulder. "They might have the opportunity to come for me," I whisper.

He doesn't laugh, he doesn't smile. He only holds me tighter. This is the comfort I desperately needed.

"They wouldn't dare," he murmurs.

"If they've done it before, I think they'd dare," I state blandly.

Peeta sighs, and loosens my braid.

"Peeta," I warn, and he grins lightly.

"I'm not doing anything wrong, Katniss. I'm playing with your hair," he hums, unraveling the braid slowly. I lean into his fingers, then pull quickly away at the close proximity. "It's very pretty down, cut short and all."

I blush, remembering the day I sheared my hair. It's grown back, enough to put it into a braid that reached just above my shoulder. That day, Peeta was working in the newly restored bakery, and I had no comfort. So, in some kind of frenzy, I took the hidden scissors from the bathroom drawer and cut short my long hair. At first, when Peeta came back later that day, he had to leave, he was so furious. Selfishly, I was glad he'd gone; his monsters were more so triggered by anger. But more often than not, his monsters seldom came.

"You didn't like it at first," I mutter, pulling away completely.

He shakes his head. "It was the change, Katniss. I didn't expect such a rapid—but still beautiful—change to your appearance. Can you understand that?"

I don't answer, but lean back towards him. He proceeds to twist and lace my shortened hair between his fingers.

"Have you gone hunting lately?"

I nod, and close my eyes against his gentle touch.

"Is that the only reason you leave the house premises?" he probes, amused.

"Of course, Peeta. Unless I want to go to Haymitch's or yours…" I falter. I never go to Peeta's; he comes here. And Haymitch is usually dragged down by Peeta if we ever needed him.

"It's okay, Katniss. Really," he whispers. "But tell me something."

I watch him cautiously. "Should I be wary of it?"

He chuckles. "Maybe. Anyway, why won't you live?"

"What?" I scramble from his grasp and face him while sitting on my knees. I begin to re-braid my hair; it's hard, but manageable.

His smile is pure, genuine beauty. "What I mean is, why won't you enjoy the life you've been spared, Katniss? It's obvious you're still alive for a reason. I don't understand why you aren't grateful for what you still have."

I huff and cross my arms. "First off: I don't see what there is to be grateful for, Peeta. My best friend killed my sister. The majority of my comrades have died by my hand. And, to put it bluntly, thousands of people—whole _districts, _even—have been obliterated. All of it being my fault." I pause, then brush back my bangs. "Second: what have I still got? What is there left for me, Peeta?"

His eyes flash, and for a second, I'm paralyzed with fear. Have _his_ monsters come back? What has triggered them now? But then, just as quickly, the flash is gone, and Peeta is watching me with a sad and disappointed expression. "You have freedom now, Katniss. You still have your friends, meaning Haymitch and Gale. Then you have me. Doesn't that suffice? Is that not enough left?"

I feel them; the treacherous tears that betray me. Peeta notices before I do, and he quickly flutters his hands over my cheeks to brush them away. I stop him, though, and he pulls away, hurt.

"I know how to dry tears, Peeta," I grumble, finishing the job.

He nods, and smiles kindly. "Of course you do, Katniss. I know that. But doesn't it feel nice to be taken care of? To know that you're still loved?"

Who would've thought his words could bring on even more tears? Today just doesn't seem to be my day.

Somehow, I find myself being held in his arms, his fingers tracing patterns up and down my arms leisurely. I cry for what seems like hours, so long that even blacker. It's late, so what happens if Peeta walks home in that darkness? What if my monsters come for him while he's unprotected?

Eventually, I sigh against him and open my eyes, finished with the exhausting sobs. "I'm sorry, Peeta," I whisper timidly.

"It's fine, Katniss, you needed to." He holds me tighter for a second, then releases me altogether. Before he can stand, I clutch his hand feverishly.

"No, Peeta!"

He looks at me, startled. "What is it?" he asks frantically.

I avert my eyes and looks to the floor. "They could be waiting out there. You know, for that perfect moment to strike. You can't go, Peeta, I forbid you."

This time, Peeta does laugh, and the beautiful sound silences me. "Is paranoia on of your scars, Katniss? It's not really befitting of you. Don't worry, I'm a trooper. I know how to handle myself."

He turns for the door and I leap up, intent on keeping him safe. If something were to happen to him, what would anchor me then?

"Peeta, _please_ stay. It's too dark, and you're being that idiotic hero that always gets hurt. Please, just _stay_. We don't have to share a room. I can have the chair downstairs and you in here, in my bed. Just… don't go." I can't believe how desperate I sound. I can't believe how tempted he looks. Then, as if I doubted my pleas, I'm shocked he actually nods.

"Okay, Katniss. If it gives you piece of mind… I'll stay. But… I wouldn't mind at all where I slept, you know that, right?"

I nod shyly, then take his hand and lead him back to the wall where we sat. "Just sit here, Peeta. I'm going downstairs for my bow. I left it on the table, I think." As I leave the room and descend the stairs, I hear the faint footsteps of a follower. I whirl around and find Peeta, who's watching me intently.

"I can take care of myself, Peeta," I mutter, despite my worries for his own well-being.

"Is that why you need the door shut whenever a room is occupied?" he counters, taking my hand and lacing our fingers. "Besides, I want to make sure you're properly escorted to and from the decided floors."

I smile slightly and together we walk down the stairs for my bow.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta and I have scars. Everyone who survives the Games comes back out with scars of sorts. I'm not sure which is the greater of mine: the mental, or the physical? Burn scars lace and stretch up my calves and knees, and I don't mind. Gale killing my precious Prim; that is one scar I would give anything to erase. Peeta's leg is gone, and his most priceless memories of me—his words, not mine—have been stolen mercilessly. But he believes he's making better ones presently.

We've retrieved my bow, and I've forgotten why I needed it in the first place. Peeta seems to do that for me; make my worries vanish completely. I forget all about the monsters, and we sit side by side, arm in arm, watching the door and window. We aren't guarding exactly, and the alert paranoia has faded.

While we sit, Peeta murmurs soft words of comfort in my ear. I feel my eyes go heavy, and sleep isn't far now. I fall asleep in his lap, dreaming of our memories on the rooftops and days in the kitchen, working on our book.

When I wake, Peeta's lips are pulled up slightly at the corners, a smile. He's watching the window intently; I peer through half-lidded eyes at the slow forming sunrise.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he whispers.

I pause before answering him. "How do we know what beautiful is anymore?" I murmur accusingly, pulling myself from his lap and against his shoulder.

"Well, that's up to the beholder I guess," he replies, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"Explain," I mumble, vaguely recalling the old quote.

He sighs, releasing me to gesture out the window. "I see that the flower bed is beautiful."

I nod, wanting to hear more.

"I see that certain skills hold beauty in the art."

I chuckle, a low, humorless noise that sounds a little scary. "Look who's being conceited."

He grins, amazed he's finally cracked the humor from me. "No, I'm referring to _your_ talent, Katniss. I've seen you hunt before, and I can honestly say it's the most graceful sight I've ever seen. Grace falls into the category of beauty for me."

I shrug, suddenly feeling embarrassed of his compliment.

"And obviously I detect a bit of beauty in you yourself, Kat."

I stiffen, shocked by his pet name for me. "Kat?"

"Yes, as much as I like Katniss, I'm going to call you Kat. Is there a problem?"

I shake my head, feeling the grin slowly forming on my face. I pull my bed-ridden braid out and hide it before he notices. But he does, and he claps his hands softly.

"Goodness, Kat, you've managed a smile _and_ a laugh. That's extraordinary; it means you're progressing," he approves, weaving a hand through my loose hair.

"I wouldn't be too proud, Peeta. It won't last," I grumble, pulling away to shrug into my jacket; I realize we've gone to sleep without a blanket and the early morning chill has me shivering. Peeta slept with his on, and after I settle into mine, he's shrugging out of his own thin one and wrapping it around me. I'm now smothered in very thin jackets that now feel like a parka.

But after Peeta's kind act, he's staring at me with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, and slip deeper into the warmth. "Exactly what I said. This easiness right now, in the present, won't last. You'll leave soon and I'll be left hear with nothing."

"I'm a factor?" he asks incredulously.

"You could say that… But I think of you as my anchor, Peeta. Don't you realize that when alone, I'm writhing in agony from the memories? Sometimes, very seldom, I think you're lucky to have been highjacked. At least the bad memories are gone."

He's shaking his head, not buying it. "You have no idea what you're saying. I would give both my legs and an arm to have _all_ of the memories they've stolen, good and bad. It's not good enough being told what happened. After a while, I want to just _know_ what's real and what's not."

I watch him curiously; he's close to tears, and somehow, I blame myself. This time, I see it as my duty to comfort him. My hand reaches for his face, pulling it my way. He doesn't resist like I do; he obliges willingly. Our lips meet gently, gradually, and I relish it and more.

He breaks away first, but only to question me once. "Real or not real. You like my company."

I hear the smirk in his light voice and look to see it, then find it's quickly fading into a soft smile.

I sigh and kiss him again. "Real," I murmur against his lips.

It's nearing the afternoon, and even though I want to hunt, I know it can wait until Peeta leaves. "Peeta," I whisper, pulling him from his daydream. "What's left to do?"

He chuckles and sits up. "Make with what you have, I suppose. Let's see… You could go hunting—"

"No."

Our eyes lock and he's staring at me curiously. "You could visit Haymitch."

"No thanks."

"Then use your brain, Kat," he grumbles, standing to leave. "Think of something while I go work in the garden."

I stand, too, intent on keeping both eyes on him. "You don't have to today, Peeta," I say, then an idea strikes. "Let's hike."

He raises his eyebrows. "The woods?"

"The woods," I confirm, smiling slightly and pulling his hand.

"Should we take provisions? You know, anything to eat? How long will we be hiking?" I can tell he's nervous; as far as I know, he's never been past the Seam's fence, never ventured off into the wood.

"I'm taking my bow, Peeta," I assure him, grabbing that in my free hand. He nods, and follows obediently.

We walk out of the house and march the distance to the unraveling fence. "Ah… Kat?"

I look at him briefly over my shoulder. "Yes?"

"Do you have a destination in mind? Or… is this just a simple leisurely hike in the woods?"

I let go of his hand and set the bow down. "Well," I huff, hoisting myself onto the fence rails, (the gap I'd grown so accustomed to was obliterated in the bombing). "I think it best to keep the answer to myself, seeing it through as the surprise."

Peeta gently slips my bow onto the ground beneath the lowest rail. "And if I persist?"

"I stand my ground," I mumble, throwing a leg over the highest bar. "So deal with not knowing. You'll see soon enough."

He mutters something unintelligible and begins t climb behind me. Just as he reaches the top, I drop down, having grown impatient with both my own caution and his.

He hesitates when he sees me jump, then slowly hitches his leg on the side. "Just jump, Peeta. Your leg will be fine," I say, picking the bow back up. My hand grazes the soft dirt for a split second. "The ground's soft, Peeta," I murmur quietly.

He nods, then releases the top bar, dropping down with less poise. "Do you do this regularly?" he asks, clutching his chest and breathing hard.

I smile. "Every day."

"Why?" The question is so simple, so unnoticeably insignificant that he doesn't realize it holds a crucial answer, one that I wish I didn't have to grant.

I sigh, taking his hand again. "It's better out here."

"How so?" he asks, pulling us into the thicket of trees.

Once we're shielded by the growth, I stop. "You don't want to go back?"

He gapes. "What? Oh, no. I want to see what it is I had to jump a fence for. So, lead the way, sweetheart."

I shake my head, incredulous. "You aren't afraid I'll hurt you out here? No one the wiser?"

Immediately, I fear for my life. Peeta's eyes become cloudy, their beautiful blue darkening oddly. His monsters have returned, and I gasp when his face becomes softer, kinder.

He shakes his head, and I watch, distrusting what my eyes are seeing. Peeta looks away, a smile forming on his pale features.

"Did I—?"

I nod my head furiously. "Yes, Peeta, you did."

He grins from ear to ear and lunges at me. For a split second, I jump back, but he is only embracing me, hugging me tenderly. I melt in his arms and hold him, too.

We pull away and continue our trek deeper into the woods. Eventually, I emerge from the thicket and see the lake, glistening with the afternoon sun. Peeta is not far behind, and I wonder why I'd brought him in the first place.

* * *

Ultimately, this little story will be pointless fluff, and I'm not sure if I'll add the other customary characters. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

When he looks up from his tangled boot, Peeta curses softly. I smile at him, glad he likes the view I'd shared with my father. The lake is now quiet, and still, something doesn't look very tempting, but peaceful just the same.

"This is a special place for you."

I whirl around. Peeta is beaming at me. "It is," I say, tugging him to sit beside me at the edge of a small outcropping.

"I won't ask how, but why. Why would you share this with me, Katniss?" We watch the green and purple minnows dart to and from crevices in the sand below us.

I avert my eyes sheepishly. "I guess I brought you here because you're special; just like this lake."

He doesn't answer, but pulls me to his side. "Thank you," he whispers, kissing my forehead.

"Anytime," I murmur, trying to press myself closer without him noticing.

"Really?" he asks, sounding as if this is a treat, and he'd like nothing more than to visit again and again.

I nod, closing my eyes and smiling slightly. "Only one way though, and that's over the fence…"

He ponders that, momentarily picking up a stone and skipping it across the murky surface. "I've hopped it before, I won't mind doing it again."

We sit in silence a while. Then, abruptly, Peeta standing and tugging on my elbow. "Come on, Kat, let's swim."

I feel my jaw drop and stare at him wordlessly. "You're not serious," I say, shaking my head and stealing glances at the lake. "We're not even sure of what's inhabiting that lake. There could be water snakes, um, snap-fish—"

"Katniss," he says, holding my wrists to keep my attention. "You shouldn't worry; the pharmacy was just restoring the stock this morning. Please?" His eyes widen and his bottom lip juts out just a fraction more than the top.

I roll my eyes and begin untying my shoe laces. "If you get bit, or prodded, or bloodied by some huge creature," I murmur, jerking my boots off. "I'm not carrying you back."

He nods, grinning. "Fair enough." His own boots are already resting beside mine, and he's pulling at the red plaid t-shirt he's worn since yesterday. "But I wouldn't mind returning the favor for you," he says, flashing me a grin that's too impish to be ignored.

I smirk at his offer. "Unless I'm knocked unconscious, or dead, you aren't doing me a favor." Then I remember the Quarter Quell. Can Peeta swim? Has he learned? "Wait, Peeta!" I say, watching as he turns to the lake and jumps.

After a minute of silence and frantic worrying, Peeta returns to the surface, grinning wildly and wiping his eyes. He stays afloat. I smile at him, and how bright he looks, just_ being_, and ease myself into the dark water. A lily pad floats my way, and I snatch the white flower from its slimy base, putting it into my braid. Peeta watches and swims for me.

Just as he's about to touch the flower, I pull away, taking it back out to offer it to him without him touching. I'm still dressed, minus the shoes, but he's shirtless, and I wouldn't want to abolish whatever friendly boundaries we've managed to salvage from the war.

He frowns when I put myself two feet's distance from him. "Why would you do that?" he asks gently, staring at me with such intensity that I begin to squirm.

I shake my head, glancing at the hidden cabin incased by the first few trees. He hasn't noticed it yet.

"Katniss."

I lock eyes with him. Despite the beautiful icy blue, they look different. No, they've always looked this way; in the war, in the cave, during the Games, the Reaping. I realize that it's _hurt_ I'm seeing. Just magnified much so that it's a much different hurt.

Slowly, I inch forward, and his frown eases into a very small smile. His arms incases me, and I melt completely. He leans forward, the intensity deepening until his eyes close.

Before our lips connect, I sigh. "Peeta."

He smirks, his eyes still closed, as if he was imagining something humorous. "Yes, Kat?" he breathes huskily.

"Put your shirt back on," I murmur, thumping his chest softly with my fist.

He laughs, releasing me to clutch his stomach beneath the water, all the while wading back to the outcrop to retrieve his plaid shirt. When he comes back fully clothed, I notice I've drifted into a cold section of the lake. And for a moment, I'm rubbing the sleeves against my arms.

Peeta notices and moves replace my hands, creating the warm friction for me. "You're cold, Kat."

Sarcasm is heavy on my tongue, and I bite it back. "Yes, I want to get out."

He nods, and we wade to the nearest shore. He gets out first, then turns to pull me from the water. Even though the afternoon sun is beating down its rays, my soaked clothes have me shivering by the comparison of chilly water and hot, windy air.

"Do you want to rest before going back?" I ask, walking the few feet's distance to our shoes.

He nods, and I sigh in relief. As much as I love wandering around the green growth of woods, I'm too tired to hike up the various hills and fallen trees. As I'm pulling at the laces on my boots, I feel my eyelids cave, and I fight to stay awake. Why am I so exhausted? How am I to succumb to sleep at a time like _this?_ I tie the last of the laces and sway, falling ever-so-softly to the warm grass beside me.

* * *

So... another chapter just posted... I really can't see a plot evolving yet... so, stay tuned, folks! If you like this drabbling slop. But hey, tell me how it is, fellow readers. There's a review button just a few centimers below, and if you click on it, it opens up a wonderful door of opportunites to tell me how you liked/ didn't like it. Anyway, Thanks for reading!


End file.
